


Bleeding Out

by LooLooTaroo



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Other, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooLooTaroo/pseuds/LooLooTaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the battle at Marineford, Smoker faces Ace's death</p><p> </p><p>   Warnings!!! Death, angst, utmost sadness!</p><p>     Seriously, this is very sad....go read a happy story that isn't canon and ends with kisses....that's what I wish I'd read instead of One Piece Volume 59.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Out

**Author's Note:**

> So I don’t usually write much in terms of author’s notes or descriptions, but I actually have some things to say about this one. This is an older story that I had kept to myself, but I rediscovered it while writing my new Ace and Smoker Fic, the Morning After, and I’ve decided to post them together. Why? I don’t know....maybe because it's kinda interesting that the stories have similar cores (Smoker contemplating his time with Ace and looking back on something) and they sort of accidentally mirror each other... also maybe because this tiny little story contained with it a tiny little piece of me.  
> Those who follow my works, original or otherwise, know I’m not a huge fan of tragedy, sadness, mutilation, gore, or anything that leaves me feeling disturbed or unwell after reading and viewing. I guess this is because, of its many, many, many purposes, I’ve always partook of fiction for pleasure, fun, escape, not something that should ALWAYS shock and depress. There’s a time and a place for everything, and I do know that literature has great power when it is brutally honest….but I just kinda like writing shmut, you know?  
> Getting to the point, I was devastatingly affected by Ace’s death….I mean an embarrassing amount. I’ve still yet to fully, and truly recover, to the point where I now live in the fandom, rather than the story. I have been writing fanfictions and buying One Piece swag sure, but to tell the honest, dirty truth, I haven’t picked up a One Piece book in two years. There’s just something about the New World that’s less enchanting than the older books. There is a different flavor to One Piece now, and while I know many people are enthralled by the New World (and the ever growing breasts therein,), I think I will always prefer the old days and the gut turning, tear jerking, gloriously original manga masterpiece I stumbled upon. Am I criticizing Echiro Oda? No. Am I saying One Piece sucks now? No. I will spend the rest of my life flying under the Straw Hat flag. But the Paramount War took a piece of the perfection and innocence with it, and, to me, the “good old days” of Zolo, Sanji, and Luffy being remotely mortal, Robin still having a personality, and Chopper being more than kawaii fan service will always be One Piece.  
> During my year in Japan Ace’s death was shoved so far down my throat that I became numb to it, and, eventually, able to talk about it, even though it was in short, sardonic bursts. Now, when a really good friend of mine makes a joke about lava proof armor, I can make a comical face of horror and maybe slap their arm…instead of literally crying. From an observer’s point of view, feeling real, literal grief at the murder of a fictional character might not make a lot of sense….but from a literature student, writer, and generally over-empathetic individual, trust me it can be devastating.  
> I wrote this story before my two some-odd years abroad, somewhere in the following days after reading volume 59, (I probably made it…two pages into 60, I never actually finished the story arc.) It was a venting piece, something that I did to help me work through what, ridiculous or otherwise, was actually quite the drama in my life. In retrospect I’m unsure what prompted me to write about it, or put Smoker through so much pain. I guess I just needed someone to share the heartache with.  
> I remember that I drafted it in two sittings, all kinds of sad and alone, and then never looked at or touched it again. Rereading it this week was a bit strange. Now with some distance between me and my heartbreak it was like a time capsule…but not really an awesome one, I only revisited it twice, the second being a few days ago to go over all the spots in red ink (a weird trick of mine to remind myself to revisit that section for some reason or another) before putting it out on the web. As for the arc it’s based off of….read it once, and never intend to read it again. If you find discrepancies in my story or the book….I don’t care. I may have information wrong and I never intend to correct it. There may be typos, run on sentences….many a sin….but the moral of the story is check it out, if you so desire, but warnings apply. This story is sad….really sad. So maybe, if you loved Ace and thought it was total buuuuuuuuuuuuuullshit that Robin got to scream “I want to live,” and walk way happily, and Ace did the same just to watch everyone he knew and loved sacrifice themselves to save him….but stilled died in time for them all to see…well maybe you won’t want to remember it…or maybe you, like myself, want someone else to stand in the aftermath with you and say “yeah man, that sucked.” This is my little story, and trust me, I’m right there with you….and it did suck. Really bad

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

                The only sounds in the room were his footsteps, and the occasional breath that came out heavier than the last few. Once he had crossed the threshold even his heavy tread was silenced as he came slowly to a stop. A heavy hand ran down his neck, then fell uselessly to its owner’s side as Smoker slowly stared into the infinite silence. His office, large and bland, was still in disarray from yesterday. Still disheveled from that heart stopping, maddening moment when he’d hung up the transponder snail and submitted to the panic. Tashigi had come in not long after, and stood, uncertain, as she watched her leader’s mad-dash to prepare himself for battle. Not just any battle. The greatest battle of his day, of any day. The battle that would go down in history as the Paramount War.

                “Sir?” Her uncertain query, her attempt at a brave face, met with his grim nod.

                He’d known it was coming, should have been better prepared for it really. Yet when he heard his orders, a voice finally giving form to the nameless, hovering, half-baked rumor that had been circling around the navy for a week it was like a bucket of ice had been dumped inside his stomach. Panic….perhaps the only word that could encompass the anxiety, the tension, the hope, the fear. Yes, mostly the fear.

                Smoker’s large gloved hand settled gently on the top of his chair and his eyes fell on an old log pose that laid spinning on the ground. He bent slowly, slowly down and carefully retrieved it, then instinctually returned it to the drawer it had fallen from and slid it shut.

                The war of all wars…Had he made a difference? Perhaps in body count, but nothing else. Nothing that mattered. Why had he even gone? No…no that he knew. He knew exactly why he’d been there. Because from there, from Marineford, from down there on those grounds he had a chance to help. He was on the inside, and gods above knew they’d need some inside men to stop the most high profile execution since the condemned man’s father.

                The hallway outside his office had been in similar chaos. All around the naval officers were barking orders, and walking briskly to and fro. There was no one before him who was not preparing for, or at least talking about, the battle.

                “Tashigi!” He’d barked, as they strode out together.

                “Sir!”

                “Captain, I need some things from you.”

                “Of course, Commodore!”

                “We depart in only forty-five minutes, so-”

“Commodore Smoker!”

He turned to see Commodore Hina, blustering towards him.

“Hina will dispatch with you!” She’d said.

“Very well,” he’d said, shoving a cigar in his mouth.

“This is all for precaution of course,” she’d said, giving him what he now supposed was meant to be an encouraging, soothing smile. “Hina is certain of our victory.” She’d turned to leave, parting with, “Portgas will face the law.”

What would she have thought if she’d known his heart had stopped?  

At some point Smoker must have sat down in the chair because when he blinked, forcing away the memories, he was behind his desk. He thought of another time with Hina, sprawled out in a chair on the forbidden rain ship, flipping his coin in the air.

“You!” She’d scolded. “You haven’t changed at all since your days as a fresh recruit! Always doing this and that! Your way only…”

                Guilty as charged he supposed.

                Yes, his life was his own, and though he followed laws they were often his own laws and to hell with those who tried to come between him and his ideals…him and his own moral compass. And how Ace had teased him for it,

                “Commodore now, eh?” Flat on his back, eyes playfully gleaming up at Smoker as his leather jacket fell to the floor. He didn’t answer, just regarded Ace with a cautious smirk as he flicked his cigar from his mouth and his hands went to his belt. Naked, he joined Ace on the bed, spreading out over the long expanses of freckled skin. “So tell me,” The provocative body arched into Smoker’s, one hand coming to lay on Smoker’s back, the other twisting its fingers into the sheet bunched up around him, “how does the great World Government feel about the Commodore’s personal life?”

                “It’s none of their fucking business,” he said around mouthfuls of Ace’s chest.

                “You so sure about that? I mean after all, you are one of them. The great, the upstanding, the noble marines of the mighty Navy. The famous White Hunter, the great Commodore Smoker….” Every word laced with his giggling taunting. “The iron fist of justice, in bed with the notorious pirate-”

                Smoker bit his shoulder and he let out a laughing yelp.

                “Hey,” Ace had said after a moment, “does this mean I’m pardoned?”

                Smoker raised his head at that, staring with raised eyebrows at his fiendishly grinning paramour.

                “Because if I had known that my punishment at the hands of the navy would have been fucking my brains out then I would have subscribed to your ‘law and order’ a long time ago. Who knows, maybe I oughta head to prison. I’d get lots of special treatment from the poor ‘upstanding’ guards; I give some great head.

                “Pretty bold statement.”

                “Don’t I?”

                Smoker’s stale face made Ace laugh again.

                “Don’t be such a poor sport. I know what happens to you pitiful, rigid law men, staring all day at posters of handsome rogues like me.” He winked.

                “You don’t seem to understand what that poster signifies,” Smoker said dryly.

                “Oh I know what you meant by ‘Wanted,’” Ace whispered sinfully, a foot running up the back of Smoker’s leg. “I just hope you go with the ‘alive.’” He made a playful wince of disgust and Smoker had snorted into the nape of Ace’s neck as he buried his nose in it.

                 Smoker thought back on those times, those moments together that were now such bitter reminiscences, laced with a throbbing reminder of what was no more. Ace’s sighs, his scent, the puff of his breath against Smoker’s neck. No more….He closed his eyes, falling deeper into the unforgiving well of his memories.

                Smoker was sitting up, leaning back on the pillows that were stacked against his headboard, watching quietly as Ace padded naked around the room.

                “Blackbeard’s making quite a name for himself with that damn fruit of his…” Perhaps it was the abruptness of the statement, or perhaps it was the poorly concealed hesitation in his voice, but either way Ace stopped. He raised his gaze as his hands finished fastening his pants, then cocked his head, clearly waiting for more to follow.

                “Well, for an upstart anyway…” Smoker raised his cigar to his lips nonchalantly. “Bounty’s jumping almost as quick as that damned brother of yours.”

                “Not today, Smoke.” Ace’s voice had taken on an edge, but Smoker wasn’t looking for a fight. At least not this time.

                “I’m not talking about Strawhat,” he said quickly. Ace paused again in dressing, (not that the activity took the little exhibitionist long) this time regarding Smoker while draping his medallions carelessly back over his neck.

                “Then what is it?”

                “What’s what?” He barked, shoving the cigar in his mouth again. “Can’t a man just say what’s on his mind?”

                Ace cocked his head, and regarded Smoker quietly as he angrily puffed away at his cigar. Smoker’s lips were tight, his eyes only meeting the other’s full of obstinacy and irritation.

                “Ace…” He grit out, clearly getting more agitated with every moment. Their eyes locked on each other, holding gazes until at last Smoker let out a long sigh. “Be careful…” he finally managed.

The confusion melted from Ace’s handsome face to be replaced by a smile, cocky as ever, as he sunk his knees back onto the end of Smoker’s bed. The mattress creaked with each sensual movement as Ace slowly, languidly, crawled his way back up to kneel, on all fours, around Smoker’s body.  Smoker exhaled sharply, letting billows of smoke seethe out to surround them as Ace gently rocked back onto his heals. Moving two long, tattooed arms to drape over Smoker’s shoulders, the young pirate cocked his head, and flashed his wide smile. Smoker felt his cheeks warming, and cursed himself for still reacting to the damn goofy thing.

                “Brat,” he said, more quietly then he wanted. Ace smiled as Smoker’s huge hands settled on his back and hip. “Awfully full of yourself aren’t you?” The raspy voice griped.

                One long, satisfying kiss later, warm cheeks were resting on well-muscled shoulders. Ace was still, content for the moment to straddle his lovers lap and stare lazily at his chin. Smoker was quiet too, one hand slowly making idle trails up and down Ace’s spine, staring away over Ace’s shoulder. The silence was broken only by their heartbeats, a quiet rhythm Smoker could feel through his lover’s warm chest.

                “I won’t forgive him.”

                Smoker kept his gaze ahead, hand still softly trailing Ace’s back.

                “Not ever. I’ll bring him back, and make him pay for what he’s done to Pops.”

                Smoker almost snorted at that, but had long since learned his boundaries with the fiery pirate. No matter how ridiculous he found his attachment to the old man, it was something he never addressed. Whitebeard…..this idiot’s “Pops…” Instead he listened quietly, letting his hand continue its lazy trail. He wouldn’t have known anything else to do, tenderness wasn’t his specialty. He had stumbled into bed with this idiot over a year ago when he’d been captured and brought before Smoker in chains. On his knees. And Smoker realized very quickly that he liked him there. Thankfully for his pride, it had been several lust filled months before he realized that no one just captured and chained Ace Heatfist, and the move had been a very calculated one. Such a relationship, with such a beginning, well it didn’t have much room for heart-to-hearts. They never questioned each other, never pried. Their bond had been one formed insidiously, secretly worming through Smoker over the tumultuous year where he’d gone from passionately devouring and defiling the vibrant man, to holding him, enjoying him, and thinking of him.

                “What will you do when you find him?” Smoker now regretted their faraway stares, now wished he would have looked, that they could have had this last conversation at least looking into each other’s eyes. Of course….he regretted a lot of things now.            

                “He killed one of our own, Smoke.” It wasn’t an answer, but Smoker responded as though it had been.

                “I know.”

                There was another silence, a comfortable quiet, then Smoker felt his companion’s chest tense as he slowly pulled himself up. Ace rocked back onto his knees, stopping long enough to lean in for another kiss. Their last. Smoker shuddered and turned his head in the darkness, he couldn’t shy away from his thoughts, or the bittersweet memory of Ace rising from the warm bed and swinging his legs down onto the floor. Long fingers retrieved his hat from where it rested on Smoker’s dresser, and settled it confidently over his messy hair. Ace stopped at the door, and looked over his shoulder, a tiny smile on his lips as he tugged at the rim of his hat. Smoker stared at him just a moment, his broad shoulders, the hideous tattoo, those ridiculous freckles, and then he was flame, a long hot tendril of fire that shot under his door and out across the hallway.

That was the last he saw of Ace….that is, until 10:00 o’clock today. Smoker raised his gaze from his desk and found himself staring out the small window in his office. It looked over the port, and as his tired eyes watched the waves roll over themselves again and again, he wondered if he’d ever forget seeing Ace that morning. Seeing his carefree, rambunctious companion on his knees, his arms tied behind his back and his shoulders slumped down in exhaustion and defeat.  His head had hung low, with dirty, ratted hair falling over his face and obscuring his eyes. His body had been bruised, and cut. He was unwashed, clearly abused. His wrists had been red and raw from countless shackles, fetters, and ropes.

Smoker had taken him in in horror, but for only a second, only half a second really. One long look, and then the relief, and the sadness, and the dismay had all been wiped from his face and replaced by a look Tashigi knew well, although she undoubtedly misinterpreted its cause. It had been hard enough resisting that indulgence until now, keeping his eyes focused forward in search of the invading pirates, keeping up his façade. No, he couldn’t stare at Ace, he couldn’t display any interest. After all, as far as any knew Commodore Smoker was at Marineford to aid the Marines in this supreme display of the government’s power. Wouldn’t do to display any unusual interest….wouldn’t do to give away how his heart was pounding. Or how his stomach had been writhing since first opening his morning paper and seeing the announcement of Ace’s imprisonment. Couldn’t let anyone know how desperately he wanted to run across the platform, grab that headstrong pirate, kiss him stupid and drag his sorry ass back to Smoker’s base and the warm, _safe_ bed therein.

  Eyes narrowed, shoulders back, Smoker began running. His heavy boots pounded across the ground as he propelled himself down through the chaos. Explosions on every side, deafening noise, as the war that would shake the ages unfolded. In the years that would follow this earth shaking confrontation, Smoker would barely be able to share his memories, he’d have nothing to tell admiring young cadets who asked him what he’d witnessed. He was focused on one thing and one alone, and those who stood in the way of that were his only enemies: he didn’t care whose side they were on. He didn’t know how long he ran, flinging smoke and punches at anything between him and Ace, it was just an adrenaline fueled haze.

“Commodore Smoker!”

Smoker jerked his head to the left, catching the familiar voice through the cacophony around them. A man right before him cried out and fell to the ground, and Smoker bounded over the body as he caught sight of Tashigi. She ducked under a flying piece of shrapnel to find herself running by his side.

“Captain!”

“I’m here, Sir! Commodore, Admiral Akainu has just returned from a secret meeting!” Her voice was quick and breathless, and the occasional glance he caught of her face showed her pale and focused. “He isolated one of Whitebeard’s captains, and tried to trick him into believing he’d been sold out. I believe they’re trying to divide and conquer and pirates.”

“What? Why weren’t we briefed on any of this?”

“I don’t know, Commodore. It must have been confidential. I just heard of the whole thing. Admiral Sengoku seemed confident though, they believe Squard has taken the bait!”

He froze in his gait, skidding in the dirt to grab Tashigi’s wrists and vault her over his back. She leapt gracefully into his prompt, and cleared the bolt of flame that was hurtling at them from Whitebeard’s first mate, Marco.

“Your orders?”

“I haven’t got any!” He cried, the thought almost causing a little smile as he ran through the chaos. “Not a fucking clue, Captain!”

That shut her up for a moment, but only one. Her face grim and determined she kept pace with him, his loyal, fierce little companion of so many years.

“Then where are we going , Sir?”

“To the execution scaffold!”

“What are you going to do, Commodore?”

“Whatever I have to do.”

                “Sir?” Tashigi slowed a moment clearly confused, but Smoker raced on. Whatever he had to do, he’d see Heatfist unshackled. No one had any right to confine him. No one had the right to subdue, to try to contain that spirit that had so captivated him. He’d free Ace; if it meant shimmying up the platform and flinging Buddha Sengoku to his death below then it’d be a price worth paying.

                Then, some sort of miracle, he’d seen him. Not that the screaming thing could be missed….flailing about and falling from the sky….But there wasn’t time to worry about details, and Straw Hat Luffy was running towards his brother. Smoker bolted for him but he was intercepted, intercepted by so many of the stupid pirates swarming the beach to reclaim their brethren. Smoker swung wildly, but carefully. He didn’t need anyone killed, he didn’t need to weaken his allies… if only they understood! If only they could see they had the same goal. If only they’d _get out of his **way**_!

Then, at last, the path was clear, and he was shouting threats at Strawhat, running to him with all his might. It seemed almost impossible that he’d been stopped, betrayed by that moron Boa Hancock….he had been so close to grabbing that damn rubber freak. All he had needed was just a second…just one moment to take a punch and get the idiot close enough to whisper. He could have told him everything. He could have helped. But that idiot woman….screeching about her love, and what a hurricane it was….Ha….as if she knew what a hurricane was. As if she knew what it was like to love someone whose very presence in your life threatened to end it. As if she knew what it felt like to watch them burn.

Smoker jerked at that thought, that dark, sinister thought that had been hovering over him like a black cloud since his shaky march from Marineford. There was no running from it, not this time. The memory came back, raw and fresh and unwanted and there he was, standing there again watching in petrified horror. And they’d been so close….He could still remember the rush, the almost painful gasp of relief that had wretched from his body as Luffy and Ace had gone spiraling together off the platform in a haze of fire. They were back to back, beaming and there was his stupid, reckless pirate. Arms up, ready to fight, grinning and defiant again. Smoker’s eyes had drifted shut as he’d squeezed his jutte gratefully. Ace was free. _Ace was free._

Then he’d opened his eyes, fighting a tiny smile as he clutched his baton again, and joined in the rest of the navy in a display of anger and panic, -one he considered quite convincing in fact-. The battle wasn’t over yet though, no they still had to make it to their boat and escape the waters of Marineford…and yet, Smoker couldn’t stop the confidence, couldn’t shake his optimism. If there was one thing that little rubber bastard was good at it was escaping. Smoker snorted as he ran across the field, faking another dramatic blow at a pirate. And then….then it had all gone wrong. So fast. So very, very fast.

Smoker could already feel the pangs of regret and of self-loathing. He could feel his mind rolling as he searched for somewhere it could have been different, something he could have done. Searched for something to explain how it could have happened. To somehow rationalize all the exhilaration, the earth shattering relief of just moments before draining from him in a terrible lurch. The way his stomach had clenched when Ace had stopped in his tracks, taking the bait, reacting to Akainu’s taunts.

 _No_ …

The fear that flared up again like a raging monster, when Ace had whirled around, eyes blazing.

“What did you say about my Pops?” His lover had hissed, anguish and wrath blazing on his face.

_No, no!_

The panic the rocked every inch of his body as Ace had turned on Akainu, flames burning.

“NO!!” The last burst from him without his consent, but his impassioned cry was lost in the raging madness around him.

And then…Smoker closed his eyes against the vision, willing himself away from the horrible image of Ace flinging himself in front of his brother. He tried to close it away, but it was all too real, too recent…he was standing in disbelief, in numb shock, wanting so badly to run to his side….to knock that fucking Strawhat out of the way and hold Ace instead. Smoker closed his eyes against a shudder, the image of Ace on his knees, blood and char smearing his body, of Akainu’s magma oozing down his sides and burning trails of warm, tanned flesh. Akainu…Smoker’s fists clutched, squeaking leather and grit from the day on the field. That bastard….that bastard….

                _“Luffy…”_

He shuddered again as the memory of that pitiful whisper flitted through his mind. Blood….Ace’s blood everywhere….Blood oozing from his burns, from his mouth, from all his wounds….and Smoker, standing alone to the side, his weapon falling from his limp hands with a clatter, his lips parting in horror. That moment, that horror, would be with him always.  Just staring at his dying companion, and unable to do a thing. He couldn’t save Ace, he couldn’t heal him, he couldn’t even say goodbye. Lost in that moment of absolute blackness, Smoker had even considered it. He’d been just one suicidal decision away from clutching what remained of the tanned and tattooed body he’d tasted so many times. But it had been so quick…from the moment Smoker saw Akainu’s attack, -saw Ace leap to take it, raised his hand and opened his mouth to scream, to shout, to try and stop that rat _bastard_ before he could harm Ace- to the moment Ace had hit his knees and fallen to his brother had all been over in a matter of seconds. The shock hit, and it felt like the whole world around them froze to witness the scene. Just staring at the blood that oozed down around the man who’d been so vibrant and full of life, and victory, and hot-blooded anger just a moment before.

 Had Ace even known he was there? Standing just a hundred yards away, feeling as though it were his insides melting instead?

And now he was alone, sitting in the stillness. Here in the emptiness of his office only reality waited. The reality of what he’d seen, of what he’d done, of the new truths of the world. What had today been, really? A mindless tragedy that now the world stood in the wake of, all so the World Government could “win,” could prove their point. How many had died, how many had suffered, in the name of one beautiful man. One man who’d borne this terrible destiny all his life. Wanted dead since conception, hated and spurned by some, protected and loved by others…and always at a terrible cost. His very life had been at the cost of his mother’s. And all his friends, allies, and loved ones who came running to his aid, laying down their lives to give him one more chance, one more day. And what sense could it make? That one life should come at the cost of so many others? Why should one person have to bear such a weight? And how….how could it have ended this way. How could all that sacrifice and love have dissolved in a flash of lava and the cold, iron resolve of a man who committed his heinous act of cruelty in the name of ‘Justice’…..Justice….was that what it had been: Justice? It was ‘Justice’ that his warm skinned lover had to die, for the terrible sin of being born? He’d been an outcast, a pirate, what else could he have been? What could he have done but walk the path fate had set him on? And how….how could he be gone?

 What was it he’d told Tashigi that day? His weeping second in command as she’d limped away from the cluster fuck that had been Alabasta? When he’d seen her, broken in body and spirit, exhausted and lost and battling with what was right and what was the law. Battling with Justice.

“Don’t you apologize. You followed your sense of justice right? A soldier doesn’t cry over something like this!! Just get stronger!!!”

                And had he listened to his own advice? Had he been strong? Had he lived on this dangerous sea in this dangerous world, always moving forward, always fighting to live his way? Had that been what he was thinking, what he’d felt, when Strawhat had flung back his head and screamed, giving voice to the writhing, horror gnawing at Smoker’s insides, at this heart. When the tiny rubber man, with his blaring despair, had looked for all the world like Smoker felt. His ears ringing, his insides burning, Smoker had turned and lashed down on the poor, unfortunate bastard who had stood too close.  A long, anguished scream ripping from his throat as he snatched his jutte from the ground and lashed out violently, striking the man across the face. He heard a crack, most likely the poor man’s jaw, and saw him go down with a shout and a stream of blood. Smoker straightened up, chest heaving, body trembling, and his eyes fell on the two brothers: one wailing to the sky, screaming out in agony, the other limp and unmoving, laying in the dirt with his peaceful last smile.

                A small sound filled the devastating silence, but Smoker didn’t jump. He didn’t even flinch. He just blinked his heavy, dry eyes and continued observing the frothing, rolling water. It was his clock. One am then….they hadn’t made such terrible time, not really, considering everything. 13 hours….Gods it felt like more. So much more.

                The end of it, the great battle between the pirates and the lawmen, would become a thing of legends. Whitebeard’s noble death, the appearance of the legendary Shanks, all of it, the monumental history he’d witnessed…he saw it all in shades of gray through his burning eyes. The sounds were nothing but numb buzzing; the madness was in his own mind, not the chaos that surrounded him. He supposed really that he was lucky to be alive, he hadn’t been aware of his surroundings, couldn’t even quite remember them, now only a few hours later. No, no as those starry-eyed cadets would look to him, they wouldn’t understand the truth. They wouldn’t know it as it was; a gritty, bloody, hideous clash not of two clear cut factions, not of good and evil. There’d been good people and horrible people on both sides of that poisonous war, there’d been sacrifice, love, and shattered dreams. There’d been heartache, and betrayal and human beings tearing one another apart. But they wouldn’t know that, no they would learn only the romanticized propaganda that the World Government would shove on the textbooks. They would study that critical day with heads filled with notions of glory, and nobility, of fearlessness in the face of opposition, of justice. Justice….yes….Justice….that noble ambition, that idea he’d lived his life for, that he had stamped on the back of his own jacket….Justice. Isn’t that why they’d taken Ace? Shackled him? Hurt him. Justice. Justice. _Justice._  

                “Commodore….” Although the voice was gentle, hardly more than a whisper, it surprised him. Pulled from his reverie, Smoker turned to see the silhouette of Captain Tashigi slowly crossing through the doorway. She looked as exhausted as him, with huge bruises beginning to form across her arms and neck, and a large blood stain running from the knee of her pants to the ankle of them. Her glasses were cracked and speckled with grime. They’d been separated on the return voyage, and he realized with a pang of guilt he hadn’t inquired as to her survival. Hadn’t even thought of her.

                He stared at her a moment, but could find nothing to say. Tashigi said nothing either, perhaps that was just as well. Perhaps they didn’t need to speak; they were both alive, and the marines had won. Maybe he didn’t want to spew any of that crap. Or maybe he was just too tired to try. He settled for a grim nod, and then would have turned back away had he not caught sight of her hands. Uncharacteristically bare, her pale fingers were cupped around a colorful array of beads, just peeking out from the gap between her index finger and her thumb…. Smoker’s heart began pounding, and at first he told himself he was imagining it….it couldn’t be….

                Ace’s medallions….

                Smoker turned completely to face Tashigi, unable to pull his eyes from what she held. She stepped forward, but remained calm at his bewilderment….as though she’d expected it. Expected him to react to her strange trophy. He wanted to stay calm, he wanted to keep his façade. What was the point of losing it now? Why scream, why give away everything. Why….why….why was she holding his necklace? Where had she gotten…how had she?

                His gaze jerked from Tashigi’s hands to her face, his eyebrows furrowed harshly, lips pulled into a helpless, confused scowl, heart pounding in his chest. He opened his mouth, but managed nothing more than frantic, guttural sounds that barely even made it to grunts before their eyes met.

There were few words to describe those poignant faces, their stares at each other, and how much was expressed between the two. There were absolutely none that Smoker could have found to describe what he felt as Tashigi’s cut and battle worn hands settled the chunky necklace into his own. His gaze was caught for a moment on the bulky medallions, but his eyes flew back up to lock with Tashigi’s. In a second all that they shared, and felt, and said, and knew, passed through their gaze and his confusion and worry gave way to something close to wonder. Tashigi knew. He didn’t know how, or when, or why she wasn’t turning him over to that bastard Sengoku, but in that second it was crystal clear that his secret was no longer just his own.

Tashigi folded his hands down over the strand of beads, not quite meeting his gaze. Her lips suddenly pressed together tightly, pulling into a horrible, miserable frown. And he knew, he knew in that staggering, astonishing moment that he wasn’t alone…she mourned for him. It was his pain she felt, his pain she could understand. Head spinning, heart pounding, he leapt to this feet staring at her desperately, but Tashigi surprised him yet again. She had hardly said a word since she approached him, and she still did not, she only put cautious hands onto his biceps and leaned into his chest, laying her head gently on his rock hard chest. She trembled a moment, leaning lovingly, apologetically, against her dearest friend, and then backed away. Her eyes, which would not quite look at him, were bloodshot, and deeply sunk into her pale, haggard face.

                And then he understood. Staring down at the gaudy strand, Smoker truly felt the enormity of his loss. Holding this precious memento, this only scrap of Ace that he would ever hold again, Smoker let out a ragged gasp. Slowly, slowly, he sank into his chair, Ace’s ridiculous trinket clutched brutally by iron fingers and white knuckles. Even as Tashigi quietly, tearfully, pulled the heavy door behind her to a gentle close, Smoker brought his clenched fists and his lover’s necklace to his face, and wept.


End file.
